Page 64 of The Lone Wolf Café
Rowena grunted as she removed her arms from around my trembling form and rose to her feet. “Well, I’m going to start prepping for closing. Stay here by the fire as long as you need.”
She walked away, fetching a damp cloth from the cupboard and wiping down the countertops like she did every afternoon.
I needed to get up. I was Rowena’s employee, and I needed to help her close the shop. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. All I could do was stare blankly into the fire, watching the flames waver and flicker and dance until they were thoroughly seared into my vision, lingering even when I closed my eyes.
The whole town acted like Rowena was a monster.
But they have no idea.I thought as I pulled my hood over my head. My anxiety was peaking – my ears and tail could pop out at any moment.
They have no idea who the real monster is.
Nighttime in my little cottage was quiet. As usual, I was perched against the far wall, opposite Rowena’s cottage, with a book in hand and Aria curled up on my shoulder. My faerie fire lantern glowed a soft baby blue as I traced my fingers over the illustrated cover ofMystical Magick. The inky artwork depicted an intricate pentagram with various elemental spirits at each point. I’d spent thirty minutes reading a chapter dedicated solely to the symbol’s history.
Reading books from the general store every night had taught me so much about witches and their beliefs. I swore the bit of witch blood within me stirred and hummed every time I turned the page. It would take a long time to uncover the truth of my ancestry, but for now, I was content to explore it through books.
Normally, reading relaxed me. It let my ever-boiling mind slow to a simmer as I wound down from my busy days at the café. Sometimes, I fell asleep with a book splayed open in my lap.
But tonight? I struggled to focus. It had taken me half an hour to read the pentagram chapter, even though it was only eight pages long. My mind kept wandering off the page as Juniper’s words burned into my brain like hot coals.
She’s dangerous.
I turned to chapter three, relieved to be starting a fresh topic. Hopefully, like with the chapter on the pentagram, it would keep my mind occupied enough for my anxiety to settle.
Then I read the chapter title:A Garden Witch’s Guide to Herbalism, and Rowena shot back to the forefront of my mind.
Goddammit.I slammed the book shut with a soft, papery thud.
Maybe reading about witches to distract myself from obsessing over one isn’t such a good idea.
But I had little else to do within the four small, cramped walls of my cottage. I’d made a few upgrades since the pumpkin carving contest, including a thin mattress pad, a cheap shelving unit with two levels, and even a little dollhouse bed for Aria. But I was running low on groceries, and I’d already read the three other books stacked in a pile next to my makeshift bed.
I sighed, mentally scolding myself for not stopping at the general store and picking up another book to read. Something that wasn’t about witches.
I guess I could just go to sleep.But my brain recoiled at the thought. As usual, I was tired, but it was still so damn early. The sun had set only an hour ago, and as a werewolf I was still used to being up late into the night.
But I had nothing else to do. So, I hunkered down, gave Aria a goodnight pat as she settled into her doll bed, and closed my eyes.
Ten minutes passed. It was eerily silent outside that night – I’d left my window cracked as I always did, and the usual sounds of animals screeching and wild elementals chittering were absent. I couldn’t even hear the faint howls of the werewolf pack in the distance.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
But the silence meant it was easy to pick up on the sound of a screen door slamming, followed by a deep male voice.
I shot up out of bed, pushing my blanket off my chest.
I knew that voice.
It was the same man that had been outside Rowena’s cottage a few days earlier.
Rowena’s voice quickly followed. Like last time, they spoke in nervous, hushed tones, as if they were afraid someone would hear them.
Which was absurd, since Rowena’s and my homes were far away from the others. Our cottages nearly touched the border between Wisteria Grove and the local werewolf pack’s territory.
Unless Rowena was afraid ofmehearing them.
I stood up, pacing slowly toward the cracked window on the opposite side of the house. This time, I couldn’t give Rowena the right to privacy. Not after what Juniper said to me earlier that day.
If Rowena truly was dangerous, I needed to know why.
